


Tell Me To Stop

by DemonAngelSakina



Series: Two's Good, Three's Better? [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Assassin - Freeform, Bad Ideas, Established Relationship, Human, M/M, Mage, Possessive Behavior, Slash, Werewolf, but actual verbal consent was not actually given, but not really, mild dub-con, necromancer - Freeform, preslash, prethreesome, unhealthy relationship, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-18 20:23:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14221053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DemonAngelSakina/pseuds/DemonAngelSakina
Summary: "...The creak of floorboards behind him drew the vampire's attention and he glanced at the blade, seeing the necromancer's shadowed reflection as the twenty-year-old stepped closer to the firelight...without his pack of skeletal hounds nor his staff it seemed--well, that was rather foolish of the youth, wasn't it? Unarmed and still daring to approach--such an amateur mistake to, so freely, bare one's throat to a predator. "~Or...When a necromancer has no idea what he's trying to get himself into.





	Tell Me To Stop

**Author's Note:**

> Okay...just to clear the air here...  
> Michael and 'Rex' have a standing, mostly unspoken and rarely discussed, 'anything goes' consent between them--i.e. 'Rex' goes along with pretty much anything Michael does because...you know what, because they are both hardcore mental cases with no concept of how to interact with anyone nor eachother, and neither care much about one another's safety--or at least, Michael gives very few shits and 'Rex' has no fucks to give regarding his personal safety.  
> Please, for your own safety, remember to follow the rules of safe, sane, and consensual--or risk awareness consensual kink--even if Michael and 'Rex' clearly only care about the consent and little else. Do not imitate these two's relationship in the slightest--trust me.

The fire crackling in the ancient hearth of the castle's west wing library was the only source of light as the vampire hunched over the curved dagger that he was sharpening--the blades twin remaining in its own sheath on his belt for now. Beyond the floor to ceiling windows was only an ink-dark abyss--the new moon hidden even further by the storm clouds gathering outside, thunder just beginning to roll even if the rain had not begun to fall. For a moment, crimson eyes--unshielded by dark sunglasses--glanced up, from the blade and whetstone, to the nearest window; perhaps, tonight, the white-blonde male could indulge in leaving the windows of his room open to better admire the ferocity of the storm.

And perhaps...he would indulge while putting a certain, antagonizing 'werewolf' in his proper place.

That thought caused a scowl to flicker across his face for a moment, before the expression smoothed back into his usual, impassive disdain. The wolf, HIS wolf, had truly chosen the worst time to begin antagonizing him, hadn't he? Not even a month ago, the gray-haired, flea-bitten mongrel had suggested that they bring that young necromancer into their affairs and then, only a week ago, the idiot had the sheer gall to openly proposition the whelp right infront of everyone in the castle tavern. 

The vampire's eyes narrowed as he continued to sharpen the dagger--he truly had chosen to keep a imbecile in his bed, hadn't he? An ungrateful beast of a man that, by all rights, deserved nothing less than to be made to feel the repeated crack of a whip across his back then put out on a chain for the night to teach him proper behavior. 

Hmm...that idea held some merit, didn't it? Yes. 

First he would chain the insolent fool by his wrists to the ceiling--the metal cuffs rather than leather this time--and strip him down...play at being nice first--soothing even--before taking the whip to the arrogant bastard's flesh. Hmm...alternating between the whip and touching the mutt to rile him up could work--mix the pain and the pleasure to the point that the senseless ingrate would not know where one ended and the other began. Then, when he was too far gone to do anything but beg, whine, and plead...put him out of the room, chained up like the animal he was.

"No..." The vampire muttered to the darkness, taking a moment to examine the paper-thin edge of the dagger--running his thumb lightly along the edge. "Not the hallway though--the balcony to my room. Let the wind and rain toy with him for a few hours."

That would work--after all, just because he intended to punish the lout for this latest bout of idiocy, did not mean that he was going to put his wolf on display in the hallway and have to deal with 'white knights'--that term, or merely 'knight' in general, disgusted him so--reporting him to Princess Lucretia...again. Honestly...what business was it of everyone around them what he did to the wolf? 'Rex' belonged to him and went along with whatever he planned anyway--normally accompanying the more humiliating rounds with a veritable cornucopia of cursing in fury--the filthier his mouth, the easier it was to tell how much the wolf enjoyed the agony that the vampire inflicted on him. 

Besides...Michael would haul HIS wolf back inside after an hour or so, clean him up, and put him to bed properly--he did take care of his belongings after all.

What fun was there in irreparably breaking his toy to the point that the defiance was no longer there? It would be unbearably boring and...as much as he detested thinking that the wolf held any true value to him, the vampire was well aware that he would be hard-pressed to find another who would be so willing to give him such free reign to sate his need to inflict pain...while satisfying their own need to be in such sweet agony.

An ungrateful mutt, yes...but HIS ungrateful mutt.

The creak of floorboards behind him drew the vampire's attention and he glanced at the blade, seeing the necromancer's shadowed reflection as the twenty-year-old stepped closer to the firelight...without his pack of skeletal hounds nor his staff it seemed--well, that was rather foolish of the youth, wasn't it? Unarmed and still daring to approach--such an amateur mistake to, so freely, bare one's throat to a predator.

How the boy had lived this long being so simple-minded...the Sisters must have granted him some small boon--or perhaps Death was enamored with the type of mage who put so much more focus on the dead than the living.

Hmm...thoughts to entertain at another time, perhaps? Possibly not.

"I do hope that you have a purpose for intruding on my thoughts, whelp." The white-blond male said as he brushed his hip-length braid over his shoulder--crimson eyes watching the reflection of the mage. "I am not in a--how does one word it?--'jolly mood'."

"My-my apologies, Ser Michael. I--that is--I did not mean to...intrude."

"And yet...you are." Michael said--his voice low and deep as he set the blade down on top of the curved sheath on the floor. He did not even bother to turn his head to further acknowledge the lean male standing behind him. "Off with you, boy. I am busy and have no interest in entertaining you."

"So I heard." The necromancer started--ringed fingers cautiously running over the shorn sides of his dark brown hair. "I...I wish to speak to you--er...discuss what 'Rex' suggested--er, a week ago--to me, um, with you?"

Michael's eyes narrowed at the firelight--what an irritating turn of events this evening. "There is nothing to discuss. You are not a good fit and not worth my time."

He picked up the dagger once more to examine the blade before, satisfied, drawing the hardened leather sheath up and sliding the dagger neatly home--ignoring the indignant splutter behind him. Honestly...this boy must be an absolute idiot--any luck and the whelp's wounded ego would send him back out the door and out of their business. 

Hmm...perhaps an extra hour in the storm for his wolf then--preferably once the thunder and lightning were at their peak.

"I--I think we have a misunderstanding, Ser Michael. I am...well, I am interested--I would like to try."

"No." Michael stated as he hooked the sheath to his belt and moved to wrap the whetstone in its cloth. "Take your leave of my presence, before you try my patience any further."

"You're trying my patience! I want in with both of you--!"

Before the necromancer could let out another word, the vampire was infront of him--blood-colored irises locked and holding silver-blue. A scarred, dark hand came to rest on the younger's smooth throat--pressing one of the necromancer's many chain necklaces into the tanned flesh--as the elder drew in closer, their noses nearly touching.

"Name, boy."

"C-Corbeau--"

Right--something to remember then...or not. Most likely not.

"Listen to me well, Corbeau. You do not want this. You cannot handle what I can and will do to you if you dare to continue this folly."

"I want to try." Came Corbeau's voice--voice breathy and hitched...though if it was from any type of lust or simply the hand on his throat, was hard to say. "I--"

The hand tightened, cutting off the younger's words and Michael pressed him back into one of the bookshelves--the vampire's expression impassive as a mask. "Do not interrupt me, whelp. Do not speak unless I tell you to. Is that clear?"

Michael watched as the younger man gave a stilted nod--kohl-ringed eyes wide from fear at feeling even a portion of the vampire's lethal strength. Corbeau's heart was pounding--the necromancer fully aware that the assassin could feel every rapid-fire thrum of his pulse from the grip on his neck. The silence grew heavy as a flash of lightning broke through the darkness--the crackling fire barely noticeable over the younger's stuttered breathing.

After what seemed like an eternity--the thunder rolling outside as wind and rain lashed at the windows--the vampire moved in closer until they were pressed chest to chest, leaving Corbeau to--for a moment--fear that the heavy bookshelf behind them might be toppled over...or, at the least, his back was being imprinted by the shelving and ancient tomes. A lightning flash revealed the blade of one of the assassin's many throwing knives as Michael moved to trail the tip of the blade down the necromancer's chest from shoulder to stomach.

"Tell me to stop."

Corbeau's eyes widened at the words, but the only sound passing his lips was his own whimpering breaths. Michael drew in, barely brushing his lips against the human's own--peaks of fangs ghosting over the flesh before the vampire drew back only enough to let the younger try to breathe.

"Beg me to let you go."

The blade tip began trailing back up, neatly slicing through the already weakened, thin silk of the necromancer's shirt--the hand on the human's throat remaining a heavy, but unconstricting weight.

"Plead for mercy."

As suddenly as it had began, Michael stepped away--sheathing the throwing knife once more and turning a sharp scowl on the necromancer. "Take your leave of me, boy. As I stated before...you cannot handle what I will do to you."

Clutching his shirt closed with a hand, Corbeau made a hasty retreat--heart pounding in his chest and breaths coming in ragged gasps. 

Michael glared at the firelight until he heard the heavy doors to the library shut. With a slow, deep inhale and exhale of unneeded air, the vampire stalked over to the hearth to rest a hand on the heated stone--the flames dancing in his eyes, but the heat barely even affecting the chill in his own blood.

"...Idiot."

With that, he turned and stalked towards a smaller door near a the hearth, exiting the library and returning to his own chambers--even a taste of the game, done as gently as he imagined himself capable, had been too much for the mage. Michael's expression darkened as he walked, sure and unhurried down the passageway--he truly did need to make that fool wolf know just how much a mistake he had made trying to bring that neophyte into this.


End file.
